


Crack Fiction and AUs

by Grey_wonderer



Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grey_wonderer/pseuds/Grey_wonderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This work contains multiple stand-alone fictions, none of which are in any way Canon.  This may contain AU, Crack-Fic, Cross-overs, and general silliness of all sorts.  Each Chapter is a complete story.  They can be read out of order or individually.  Each will be rated in the notes at the beginning of the chapter.  This is all harmless fun.</p><p>These are not my Characters and I did not make any money on this.  Most characters are the creation of J. R. R. Tolkien but others may appear in Crossovers and will be credited to the proper author at the beginning of the chapter in which they appear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Encouraging New Authors

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the B2MEM challenge of 2012. This was for Bingo Card, Crack-Fic. The prompt was O-67 The characters discover Fanfiction
> 
> I am very certain that this subject has been written about before many times but this is my take on it. The story mentions sex, both het and slash but few details are given. This is a PG-13 to R rating for rude language and the mention of sex. Do not read this if you don't like sex. : )

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the local Shire paper can be very upsetting. Frodo is not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very AU and filled with mentions of sex, both het and slash. Rated G-13 for rude language. Non of the author names used in this story are based on anyone that I know or have ever heard of. I made them all up for the purpose of this story.

Bingo 0-67 Characters discover Fanfic

“Sam, have you seen this?” Frodo asked looking rather embarrassed.

“Seen what, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked walking over to join Frodo at the kitchen table.

“I was enjoying my morning tea and toast, while waiting for second breakfast to begin and I decided to read our town’s weekly news paper,” Frodo said, handing it to Sam. “I was just browsing, when I came upon that.”

Sam was looking intently at the page and the more he read, the more startled he looked. “Oh, you’ve found the author page?’

“They have the nerve to call it, the local author’s page of fan fiction!” Frodo frowned. “Can you believe it? That poorly written piece of rubbish is on a page called, ‘Local Authors’?”

“But it doesn’t say who wrote it,” Sam said. “All it says is written by Market-Lass27.”

“Exactly! The author doesn’t have the nerve to list her real name after posting something like that. She’s using a pseudonym so she can’t be identified.” 

“What’s a pseudonym?” Sam asked curiously. He was always eager to learn new words. It was remarkable how much his vocabulary had grown just from spending time with Mr. Frodo. He’d picked up so many good and useful words.

“It’s a pen name, a name an author uses to hide his or her identity,” Frodo said. “Normally, someone might use a pseudonym if they have written something political or rather unpopular or if they just want to remain anonymous for some other valid reason. Unfortunately, the writer of this dreadful story, is more likely ashamed to use their real name because what they are writing is slanderous and ill-thought-out.”

“According to the heading on this page, there’s more than one author writing for the ‘local author’s page of fan fiction,” Sam said. “There’s Market-Lass27, Hardbottle-Hero, Froggy-Morton, Biscuit33, and a whole lot more. The paper‘s got much larger in size and taken on a bigger readership since they started postin local work, or at least that’s what I hear from Marigold.”

“Let me see that,” Frodo said snatching the paper from Sam’s hands. He studied the page and then began to read aloud. “This portion of the Hobbiton Bulletin is dedicated to furthering the talents of local authors. The works on this page are all fiction and do not accurately portray any hobbits, elves, dwarves, or big folk living or dead. All works printed here are for entertainment only and are not to be taken as factual. This publication is not liable for anything contained within these stories and the views expressed here are not the opinions of the Hobbiton Bulletin.” Frodo scowled and shoved the paper back into Sam’s hands.

“That would seem to cover it,” Sam said. “If they print that sort of disclaimer, then I doubt there’s anything can be done about it.”

“That is exactly what they *hope* anyway,” Frodo said. “If anyone can prove that they’ve been slandered or misrepresented in these stories, then that will be a different kettle of fish altogether.”

“Says here that folks can send letters to the Bulletin and they will pass them on to the authors,” Sam said. “It says, ‘If you enjoy any or all of the stories contained in this publication, please send your words of encouragement to your favourite writers in care of the Hobbiton Bulletin and we will be happy to pass them along. Our local writers always enjoy hearing what you think of their stories as it is the only reward they get. These are unpaid works and so, your input helps to encourage them.” Sam smiled. “I suppose if there were one o’ these stories what you liked, you could send a note to the writer so that must mean that the folks at the bulletin know who Market-Lass27 and the rest of these folks are, Mr. Frodo.”

“Yes, and they want us to write encouraging letters! Well, I’ll write a letter and I *will* be encouraging,” Frodo said darkly. “I will be encouraging Market-lass27 to stop writing!”

“I don’t think that’s what it means, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said.

“No, it isn’t what it means, but it’s what I intend to do,” Frodo said. “And I plan to be just as anonymous as these so-called writers! If they don‘t have to put their real names on their stories, then I don‘t have to put my real name on my review.”

“Why are you so upset, it’s all just fiction,” Sam said.

“Did you look at it?” Frodo asked but he went on before giving Sam a chance to respond. “Market-Lass is writing about a Mr. Brodo Faggins who is boffing his gardener, Stan Grangey. If you ask me, that’s as close to slander as a person can come without actually crossing the line. Anyone reading this will think that you and I are, are, well, that I’m shagging you senseless!”

“And it also says that you’re havin your way with your cousin, Happy Randybuck,” Sam said looking slightly peeved. “Seems that you are carryin on two relationships at once and in this story here, poor, loyal, Stan don’t know a thing about this Randybuck business.”

“Sam, in the first place, this is a work of fiction, and in the second place, I am not Brodo Faggins! This Market-Lass27 wants people to believe this is me, but it’s not me. You should know that,” Frodo said. “Besides, her work is full of errors in spelling, double-negatives, and she is constantly beginning her sentences with the word ‘and’ which isn’t at all proper. She could benefit from a good proof-reader on top of everything else.”

Sam didn’t look too certain at the moment, but he said, “So you aren’t havin a wild affair with Mr. Merry?”

“Of course not,” Frodo sighed. “He’s my cousin, Sam!”

“Then what about the Ranger from the North that you meet with secretly once a month down by Waymeet or the Elf what sneaks into your room now and again?” Sam asked. “In that story that’s being written by Biscuit33, you and that Ranger fellow are all over each other every chance you get.”

“What Ranger?” Frodo looked stunned. 

“There’s this story by Biscuit33 that’s in it’s forty-fifth chapter what tells of your deep love for a Ranger from the North named Saunter who helps guard our Shire when he isn’t keeping your bed warm,” Sam frowned.

“What kind of a name is Saunter?” Frodo objected.

“Biscuit33 says that folks call him Saunter on account of the fact that he walks like he’s in no hurry to get anywhere and because he has so many different complicated names that they needed something easy to call him,” Sam said.

“Someone in our Shire has wasted enough time to write forty-five chapters about a Ranger named Saunter?” Frodo looked amazed. “There’s a hobbit who has no life!”

“And Froggy -Morton is writin a story all about how you and her are lovers and how she helps you save folks in the Shire from danger,” Sam said. “In this one called “Frodo‘s True Love“, every time you get into a fix and have a problem you can’t solve, Froggy comes to your rescue and saves the day and then you’re so grateful that you have lots of sex with her.”

“I don’t know anyone named Froggy-Morton!” Frodo objected.

“Well, she uses your real name in a way. Her lead character is a blue-eyed hobbit called Frodo Bags,” Sam said.

“My name is Baggins, Sam, not Bags,” Frodo objected in exasperation.

“I know that but it’s awful close,” Sam frowned.

“Have you been injured lately?” Frodo asked Sam suddenly, focusing on the back page of the paper.

“No, Sir,” Sam said. “You know I’ve been here at Bag End doing the gardening all week long. I haven’t missed a single day in three years now.”

“Well, according to Ale-drinker5, you fell from a moving cart last week and nearly died of your injuries but I managed to tend to you and save your life,” Frodo smiled. “Ale-drinker5 says you were feverish for almost three nights and that if I hadn’t stayed by your side, you would have died.”

“That didn’t happen,” Sam objected.

“No?” Frodo looked surprised. “Then I suppose that you haven’t been teaching Rose Cotton how to kiss either or building your own still in the Gaffer’s tool shed, or learning Elvish from a human lass who was raised in Rivendell by Lord Elrond as a sister to his daughter?”

“I always wanted to see Elves but I never have and the only Elvish I know, Mr. Bilbo taught me,” Sam objected. “And more importantly, who knows about my still?”

“See my point, Sam?” Frodo sighed. “These are works of fiction but because the writers are making up stories about real folks here in the Shire, the stories are slanderous.”

“I suppose so,” Sam frowned. “Still, I do like this one where I have found a sack o gold in the garden and I am now the owner of Brandy Hall and am having sex with Mr. Merry’s mum. She’s a handsome lass even if she is a bit too old for me.”

Frodo sighed and walked out of the kitchen. “If you need me, I will be at my desk writing several strongly worded letters of complaint to some of these so-called authors!” He took the paper, folded it up and walked from the room. Sam was sorry to see him go because he really wanted to finish reading a story by Flowering Shrub that was all about a brave gardener named Sam, who saved all of Middle earth. Maybe later.”

******

Pippin chuckled. “Listen to this one, Merry,” he said and began to read. “Dear Biscuit33 or whoever you are, Your writing is dreadful and you should stop at once before you offend everyone within the borders of the Shire. I have never in all my life read such drivel. The so-called fiction with which you are attempting to infect our local population is merely thinly disguised slander and unless you wish to be prosecuted to the full extent of the laws of our land, you will cease at once.”

“Who in all the Shire wrote that?” Merry laughed.

“I suspect you know him, Cousin,” Pippin grinned. “He calls himself Elvin-Prince.”

“You think it’s Frodo, don’t you?” Merry said.

“Who else in all the Shire would dare to call themselves an Elvin Prince?” Pippin asked. “Half the folk I know think Elves don’t exist. It’s Frodo. I hope he keeps writing because I really like the flames more than the praise.”

“I thought this one was Frodo,” Merry said. He pulled out a letter from the pile and read, “Dear Randy-Brandybuck, You owe everyone in the Shire an apology for your uncommonly poor writing. Slander is not a form of entertainment. It is a crime and it is punishable under our laws by banishment.” Merry smiled. “It goes on like that for a while and then he or she signs it, Scholarly-Hobbit. To me, that sounds like Frodo. He thinks he’s the only one in the Shire with an education.”

“Then who is this Elvin Prince?” Pippin frowned.

******

“You really shouldn’t dignify this sort of thing with a letter,” Haldir objected.

“This Biscuit33 person wrote that the Prince of Mirkwood, that’s me, was having sex with dwarves in secret,” Legolas said angrily. “I cannot let that sort of thing go unanswered! I wrote to him or her because I cannot allow everyone in Mirkwood to think I‘m sleeping with dwarves, can I?”

“Are you?” Haldir asked after a brief pause.

“Of course not!” Legolas shouted. “And some of the other elves are whispering about me and laughing. It would seem that a great many folks here are reading this little Shire paper for amusement.”

“Well, then you probably should write a letter to King Under the Mountain too because he is writing a twenty-chapter story where you are the sex slave of some Dwarf named Otto,” Haldir smiled.

“I didn’t see that in the little Hobbit paper,” Legolas objected. “They don’t have a writer called King Under the Mountain.”

“No, that story is in the paper from Dale,” Haldir said. “I get it because they have this wonderful author in there who is writing a story about a character named Haldir who was injured in the battle of the five armies and is now a great leader of his people and loved by everyone. It’s true that it isn’t me, but still, sometimes the writer captures my character so well that it almost seems like it’s me. If you want to read it, I’ve saved all of the parts.”

 

GW

03-06-2012


	2. Elvish Travel Methods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you ever wonder about the Undying Lands and exactly how the Elves manage to 'sail' to them? This is my attempt to explain that mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the B2MEM Challenge for the Bingo Card, Crack Fiction.  
> The prompt was O-68, Time Travel
> 
> This is an AU Crossover involving Lord of the Rings and the television program, "Time Tunnel". There is also a bit of a nod to "Quantum Leap" and to "The Wizard of Oz". When I steal from stuff, I steal from a lot of stuff. This is rated General Audiences. None of the characters in this chapter are mine and I have made no profit on this, which will be painfully obvious to anyone that reads it.

“What is it?” Sam frowned, at the large, circular, tunnel.

“That thing is huge!” Pippin marvelled, forgetting exactly why they had come. He walked closer to it and a firm hand fell on his shoulder. 

“Do not go any closer, young hobbit. This is the work of the Elves and far too complex for any of your kind to glean.” Pippin scowled up at a rather pious looking, dark-haired Elf of an indeterminate age. “This is our doorway to the Undying Lands and we guard it closely. It has great power.”

“It certainly does!” Merry said. He was standing over by a large control panel in the centre of the room. “Look at all of the buttons and the flashing lights. This must have taken weeks to build. What is your source of power?”

Keeping a firm hold on Pippin and dragging him along, the dark-haired Elf hurried over to the controls and put his other hand on Merry. “Touch nothing!” he commanded. He glared fiercely at Gandalf, who was standing with Bilbo, Sam, and Frodo. “This is what happens when you bring the uneducated into our midst, Mithrandir.”

“They will not harm it and they will not speak of it outside this room,” Gandalf said, looking equally fierce. “They are here only to say goodbye and they have earned the right.”

“Yes, a troll fell on me and I nearly died,” Pippin said looking up at the dark-haired Elf.

“Too bad,” the Elf said and from his tone no one was certain if he was sorry the troll fell on the young hobbit or if he was sorry that the hobbit had not died.

“I’m a might confused,” Sam frowned. “I thought the Elves sailed to the undying lands. The boat’s outside next to the dock and yet, we’re in here with all of these oddments and that big tunnel.”

“We *want* everyone to believe that we sail into the west,” the dark-haired Elf said stiffly. “It is better that they do not know that we possess this type of knowledge.”

“So you lie?” Sam frowned disapprovingly.

“It isn’t a lie. It’s a myth,” the Elf said. “This is what we do and the story about sailing is the myth or legend, if you will.”

“So, you made it all up to cover for your secret tunnel, then?” Merry said.

“They lied,” Sam said firmly.

“It’s a myth!” The dark-haired Elf was getting more irritated by the minute.

“Well, my old Gaffer’d call it a lie and no mistake,” Sam said. “He’d say that no good comes of lying and the truth is always best. That’s what he’d say.”

“But the Gaffer doesn’t have a great big tunnel in his smial that he needs to protect,” Pippin pointed out. “Most of this stuff in here must be illegal and it’s bound to be worth sacks and sacks of gold. The Elves probably have to lie to keep folk from coming in here and taking this apart and selling it for scrap.”

“Scrap? This is a valuable tool and a pathway to the Undying lands!”

“So, we have to walk all the way?” Frodo frowned looking up at Gandalf. “I thought you said we were sailing. I don’t believe Bilbo will manage a long walk.”

“You don’t walk,” Gandalf smiled. “You only have to climb inside the tunnel and stand for a few minutes. Then is when the magic happens.”

“Magic? You expect him to believe in magic after seeing this?” Merry objected. “This isn’t magic. It’s the work of machines and sometimes machines can be very cantankerous. I say let this Elf send a box or something to the undying lands as a test before you let them send you anywhere, Frodo. This is impressive but it looks dangerous to me.”

“Mr. Merry’s right,” Sam said. “We had a machine that was supposed to grind grain once and it jammed up and the Gaffer broke two fingers in it.”

“I grow weary of hearing about this Gaffer person,” the dark-haired Elf sighed. “If you and your party are going to the Blessed Realm, then we must begin. I have no time to argue with these small, annoying beings.”

“I don’t like him, Gandalf,” Merry said glaring at the Elf. “He’s got a nasty turn to him.”

“I care not for what you might like,” the Elf said. “Now, are you ready to go or not?”

“Don’t do it,” Merry said darkly.

“This is not your concern.”

“It is too! That’s my cousin that you’re sending through the tunnel into where ever it goes!” Merry frowned.

 

“It goes to the home of the Valar. You do know who they are, don’t you?” the Elf asked.

“Of course I do,” Merry said, annoyed.

“Well, Merry if the Valar use this tunnel then it’s probably alright,” Pippin reasoned. “I suppose it would just be a matter of pressing the correct button on this big panel and this, what is your name?”

“Ziggy,” the Elf said.

“Ziggy?” Merry and Sam both said at once. 

“No Elf is named Ziggy!” Frodo objected. “They all have names like Legolas or Elrond or Haldir. Something more Elvish.”

“My parents had a rather nasty sense of humour,” Ziggy said, embarrassed.

“He can’t help that then, Frodo,” Pippin said reasonably. “What’s this big button do, Ziggy?”

“Don’t touch anything!” Ziggy warned. “I am losing my patience, Mithrandir. Are you going to the Blessed Realm or not?”

“Very well,” Gandalf sighed. “Say good-bye to your friends, Frodo. You too, Bilbo and then we’ll be ready to go.”

All of the hobbits gathered in front of the large tunnel and began to talk at once. Merry was clearly against anyone going into the large tunnel and was saying so loudly. Pippin wanted Frodo to send him back something nice through the tunnel as a souvenir. Sam wanted to come with Frodo. Bilbo thought they were in the Green Dragon and kept trying to order ale.

“Mr. Ziggy?” Pippin called out.

“What?” Ziggy asked, annoyed.

“Why is everything in here in black and white? There aren’t any colours.”

“It is rather drab,” Gandalf said.

“It has to be like this to work,” Ziggy said. 

“Why?” Pippin asked.

“I do not question the Valar,” Ziggy said.

“But in here, I’m all drab too,” Pippin objected. “And Merry’s nice, yellow waistcoat is grey.”

Merry looked down and frowned. “It is! I paid my tailor good money for this fabric. It you and the Valar have spoiled it, someone is paying for it.”

Ziggy rolled his eyes. “Everything will go back to normal once you return to the outside.”

“What about Frodo and Bilbo?” Pippin frowned are they going to be all dull and grey from now on?”

“No,” Ziggy said seeing the horrified look on Frodo’s face.

“I have lovely eyes,” Frodo objected. “They are huge and very blue. Everyone says they are my best feature. I don’t want to be grey forever.”

Gandalf peered at Frodo. “Your eyes are still blue. It’s quite startling but your eyes have not changed with the rest of this room.”

“That’s probably because he’s an Elf friend,” Pippin suggested.

“I don’t know what elves he’s friends with, but it isn’t me,” Ziggy muttered.

“Has anyone got a mirror? I’d like to look at my eyes,” Frodo said smiling again.

Gandalf produced one from beneath his robes and handed it to the hobbit.

“Still very blue,” Sam smiled wistfully as Frodo gazed into the mirror.

“Time to go,” Ziggy said. “Get into the tunnel so we can get on with this.”

“I bet it’s grey in here so that when you get to the Undying Lands things look much more impressive,” Merry reasoned. “You’re all drab and grey and then suddenly everything is in colour again. Makes the Valar look more magical.”

Ziggy groaned. “Do not tell that! It’s a secret.”

Gandalf, Bilbo, and Frodo all stepped into the tunnel and stood there and Ziggy assumed his position at the controls.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Merry sighed giving Ziggy a warning look.

Ziggy ignored him and pushed a switch. “Now, you start running, Mithrandir.”

“Running?” Frodo sighed. “I still liked this better when we were sailing.” He took Bilbo’s arm on one side and Gandalf did the same on the other and they ran into the tunnel but only for a second. Soon, the control room and the tunnel were filled with fog and there was a flash of light and then they were gone.

“Well, that seemed to go better than I was expecting Merry said, but just then two men ran out of the tunnel and stumbled into the room.

“Are we home?” one shouted.

The other was looking directly at Pippin and he said, “I don’t believe so, no, probably not.”

“Hello,” Pippin smiled. “You just back from the Undying Lands?”

“No, we were in Germany,” the man said.

“Is that near, Bywater?” Sam asked.

“No, we were about to try and execute Adolph Hitler but then the tunnel opened up and we had to leave,” the man sighed. “Too bad really. That guy, Hitler, he really needs killing.”

“Maybe you can go back later and finish him off,” Pippin suggested.

“No, we never go to the same place,” the man sighed. “The folks at project Tic Toc don’t have all the bugs out of this system yet.”

“Tic Toc? We have a clock in the parlour that makes that noise,” Pippin smiled.

“Looks like we are somewhere new yet again, Doug.”

“I know, Tony. It’s the same thing every week. I’m getting very tired of this,” Doug said.

“Want to come back to Hobbiton with us and have something to eat?” Pippin asked. “You can tell us all about the Elvish tunnel and how the Valar look in colour.”

“Why not?” Doug said. “We’ve nothing else to do.”

“I am a bit hungry,” Tony grinned. “Let’s go with them.”

As they walk out into the sunshine, Merry frowned at them. “We’re alright but you two are still in Black and white.”

“We always were,” Tony said. “In our time, everything is in black and white.”

“Then don’t touch my waist coat,” Merry said. “I like it just the way it is.”

Tony shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“Hey, aren’t you guys hobbits?” Doug said suddenly.

“We are, yes,” Sam said.

“I read a book about you. Have you gone to destroy the Ring yet?” Doug asked.

“Just did that a year or two ago,” Merry said.

“Oh, well, I guess we missed out on that then,” Tony sighed. “I wonder why we’re here?”

*****

“This doesn’t look like the Undying Lands to me, Gandalf,” Frodo frowned.

“No, I don’t believe it is,” Gandalf said as he looked about them.

“But at least we’re finally on a ship,” Frodo grinned.

“And it’s a very big one too,” Bilbo smiled. He reached out and took the arm of a passing gentleman in uniform and he asked, “Excuse me, my dear fellow. Where exactly are we?”

“Why you are on the HMS Titanic, Sir,” the man replied with a smile. “This is the finest luxury liner ever built and it’s unsinkable!”

GW

03-05-2012


	3. The Path to Passion", a Baggins Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet, a young hobbit lass who works for Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, finds herself in the arms of the hobbit of her dreams. But can this romance last or is it doomed to fail before it's begun? (Dramatic enough?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the B2MEM 2012 Bingo Card Challenge. The prompt was on the Crack Fiction Card and it was to write a Harlequin Romance Style Fiction, prompt N-43 on the card.
> 
> This is not based on any particular romance book. It just attempts to sound as if it were written in that style. Warning: This chapter is rated R and contains sex. While some of the characters in this story are based on characters created by J. R. R. Tolkien, they are not exactly true to nature in some instances. In other words, this is very AU.

She sighed deeply and clutched her handkerchief to her heaving breasts. She could hardly expect someone with so great a fortune and such a kind and generous heart to notice someone like her. He could have his pick of the finer lasses in the Shire. She’d heard the talk. Becoming the wife of Mr. Frodo Baggins, was the dream of many a young lass.

Her employer, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins‘ sharp tongue cut a wide path through her musings just then. “You there! Quit your daydreaming and be on your way to market before I fire you! You know full well that it is only out of my deep affection for your grandmother that I hired you in the first place. Be grateful that you aren’t still out in the streets selling hand-knitted tea cosies where I found you!” 

“Yes, Mrs. Baggins. I’m leaving now, Mrs. Baggins,” Violet said scooping up her shopping basket and hurrying out the door with Mrs. Baggins’ voice chasing after her.

“Don’t bring down any more shame on your family than your brother already has!”

This cruel remark put Violet in her place and with her head lowered and her basket tucked tightly against her, she hurriedly walked into the market square.

“You should watch where you’re going, lass,” a strong viral voice said and she felt a hand grasp her arm. When she looked up, she was surprised to find that she was gazing into the deep blue eyes of the very object of her desires, Mr. Frodo Baggins of Bag End!

“Oh, I do beg your pardon, Sir,” Violet said unable to tear her eyes away from his handsome face, and unwilling to allow her eyes to stray far in fear that she might betray herself by ogling the massive, powerful, bulge barely hidden beneath his finely tailored trousers.

He smiled at her and she found herself unable to speak as she began to drown in the deep, blue pools of his luminous eyes.

“Cat got your tongue, lass?” he teased.

“Oh, no, Sir,” she managed. “I am so embarrassed to have troubled you. I was on my way to market for my employer, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins. I did not mean to cause you any bother.” She continued to gaze into his eyes as she spoke, her heart beating as if it were a drum in the annual Lilth Fair Parade. She was amazed that he couldn’t hear it. Suddenly, she felt her knees go weak and she swooned.

Reacting quickly, Frodo took her in his powerful arms and lifted her tiny frame as easily as one might lift a spoonful of mushrooms. She was so slim and finely boned and her soft, raven curls cascaded down her back in a way that Frodo found alluring. As she lay motionless in his arms, he dared to steal a kiss, placing his warm lips gently against her soft cheek.

His kiss startled her back to consciousness and their eyes locked. Suddenly she found herself kissing him, kissing him hard and full on the lips and feeling his eager hands as they explored the contours of her body like a hungry hobbit searching the pantry for sweets.

Still holding the beautiful lass in his arms, Frodo walked quickly off the main path and into a copse of trees. Devouring her with his hungry kisses, he managed to place her on a conveniently located bed of pine needles and then drape his muscular frame over her tiny, perfect, body. He knew that he should stop, but he was powerless to keep his hands off her. He ached with desire.

Violet moaned in pleasure as she felt Mr. Baggins’ rough hands beneath her bodice, caressing her milky-white breasts and stimulating her nipples. Amid her joy she cried out, “This is what I have dreamed of all my life and yet I am not worthy of your affection, Mr. Baggins. My family are-”

“Hush, lass,” Frodo urged as he tore open her bodice and ran his nimble fingers down her flat stomach. “I know that your Father was a drunken wastrel who lost the fortunes of numerous fine, families in the Shire and that your brother was a pony thief. I also know that your Mother was a terrible dressmaker and that your Uncle had sex with farm animals, but I care not about your family’s misdeeds. I care not, because I want you. I mean to take you right now, upon this bed of prickly pine needles and I don’t mean to stop until you are screaming with release.”

Violet tossed back her impressive mane of dark curls and squeezed her eyes closed in ecstasy in spite of the wicked prickling of the pine needles. “This is what I have longed for! To be in your arms! Take me, Frodo Baggins! Take me hard and fast and often!”

“I vow with all my richly dressed and well-bred heart to do that very thing!” Frodo declared while he attempted to rip her clothing from her slim, quivering, body. When the material of her sturdy frock refused to yield to his efforts, Frodo pulled out his knife and sliced her dress from her writhing frame, shearing her like an experienced farmer shears a sheep, revealing her naked body to the cool, Shire breeze and to his hungry eyes. As she watched in wonder, he unfastened his finely tailored trousers and released his throbbing, stiffening member. She gasped in amazement. “It’s so huge!”

Frodo smiled wickedly. “Yes, all of the Bagginses have impressive great knobs, even the females. You should have seen the penis on my grandmum!”

Startled, but not at all put off by this news, Violet spread her legs and invited him into her tunnel of love. Eager to have his way with her, Frodo plunged into her and began to ride her like a wild stallion in a claiming race.

Later, sweat-soaked and exhausted, he rolled off her and collapsed onto his back, wincing as the pine needles attacked him in much the same way he had attacked Violet.

Violet was aglow with the light of pure ecstasy and the joy that only very rough sex with a near strange on the path to town can bring. She slowly raised up onto one elbow and whispered softly, “My darling, I promise to make you the happiest hobbit in all the Shire. I will satisfy your every need and I will be the perfect wife to you.”

Frodo sat up quickly and looked at her in surprise. “Wife?”

“Well, yes, I thought that-”

“You thought wrong, Miss,” Frodo said surprised by her assumption. “I am hardly the sort to marry the first lass I ravage, with my unbridled passions while on the way to town to purchase some cheese. What sort of lad do you take me for?”

“I thought you were a gentle hobbit. I-I thought you were come to save me from a life of toil and misery and unrequited love!” Violet managed, her breath coming in long, shuddering gasps.

“My word, no! You must have me mistaken for someone else. I just randomly fornicate with willing young lasses until my carnal desires have been satisfied. I don’t intend to marry. That would spoil my chances of planting my seed in the nether regions of my handsome, gardener. Sam will never play hide the sausage with me again if I get married.” He stood and brushed the pine needles from his rippling muscles and began pulling on his finely tailored trousers. 

“But what shall I do now? Where shall I go?” Violet wailed, broken hearted and awash with the agony of losing her one, true, obsessive crush to a gardener of all folks! 

Frodo smiled sympathetically and looked at her with his luminous, blue eyes and said, “Might I suggest the market? The cheddar cheese today is supposed to be beyond all imaginings.”

GW 

03-03-2012


	4. What Goes Up...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the moment of victory, Aragorn receives some very unpleasant news from the Eagles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the B2MEM Bingo Card Challenge. Written for B-07 Crack Fic Bingo Card, ________made them do it!
> 
> This is very AU and is rated PG-13. Warnings include general silliness and character death.

“What have you done? Are you completely mad? You’d have done better to stay away than to do what you have done here today,” Aragorn shouted.

“In all the years I have known you, I have respected you, and your kind,” Gandalf said sadly. “You have treated me fairly and saved me from certain doom on more than one occasion. I cannot believe that you could have failed us all in such a grievous way.”

“One simple task! That was all! Just one simple task,” Aragorn sighed.

The three large birds hung their heads in shame but did not say anything.

“Here, we stand upon a field of victory, all eyes turned toward us, a celebration emanate, and now, what do we tell the people of Middle earth? How do we bring them this news?” Aragorn sighed.

“Hey, chill, Strider, it’s still a victory,” Gwaihir said. “The war is won. Victory is yours. The Dark Lord is dead and the lands are free once again.”

“But at what price?” Aragorn snapped. “How can I begin a celebration when the heroes of the day have perished?”

“Aragorn, dude, that’s how war is, man,” Landroval shrugged his wings, “War is hell. Sometimes you get the bear and sometimes the bear gets you. When the going gets tough, sometimes the tough get dead.”

“Is that how it goes?” Meneldor frowned. “When the going gets tough, sometimes the tough get dead? I thought it was the tough get tougher.”

“I believe it’s the tough get going,” Gandalf said absently.

“Where do they go?” Landroval asked.

“They run off and save their own asses, dude,” Meneldor said. “Then they live to fight another day.”

“That doesn’t sound so tough,” Landroval objected. “It’s a great idea for savin your skin but it doesn’t sound tough to me.”

“That isn’t the point!” Aragorn snapped. “You bird-brains had one job to do! Just the one and you failed spectacularly!”

“Look, those hobbits were small. They were just dead weight, man,” Landroval said. “In fact, they might have been dead already when we picked them up. There was no way to tell. Besides, small things are very hard to hold onto properly. It’s tough to get a grip. Those hobbits were all sweaty like from the heat and you know how hard it is to hold onto something that’s covered in sweat. Haven’t you ever dropped anything important?”

“You sound as if you’re trying to equate this with breaking a tea cup or spilling the sugar!” Aragorn shouted. “What is wrong with you three?”

“Must have been the poppies,” Gwaihir sighed. “I thought we were asking for trouble by even trying it. We’d found this huge field of poppies earlier and so we landed and just helped ourselves, like you do, you know? I had a serious buzz on when the word came that you needed us and I said to Landy there, I said, Landy, I don’t think we should try this. We’re too wasted. But Landy figured that we could still manage it, so we all turned up and gave it a go.”

“Yeah, we’ve flown wasted before,” Landroval said. “Loads of times. You know what people say. High like an Eagle? That don’t just refer to flyin’ you know. This is the first time we’ve ever had any trouble with it.”

“No, that’s not right,” Gwaihir corrected. “Remember that time you dropped those dwarves into the sea?”

“No, when was that?” Landroval frowned, scratching his beak with one foot.

“You don’t remember?” Meneldor grinned. “Man, you must be even more toasted than I thought you were! We took serious shit over that. I can‘t see how you don‘t remember that one!”

Aragorn rubbed his temples and fought the urge to scream. “You agreed to rescue the Ring Bearers knowing full well that you were high on poppy plants?”

“Don’t you have more of those little hobbit dudes?” Landroval asked. “I mean, they all basically look alike to me. If you’ve got a couple more of them, couldn’t you like pass ‘em off as the two we dropped?”

“Yeah, who’d know?” Gwaihir asked.

Just then, Legolas rushed up carrying Pippin in his arms with Gimli following him close behind. 

“Aragron! We’ve found Pippin,” Legolas said.

“We?” Gimli panted. “What do mean, we found Pippin? I was the one that found him! You were ready to give up and were just standing there complaining when I spotted his foot sticking out from underneath that troll and I said-”

“That’s wonderful, Legolas,” Aragorn said ignoring Gimli completely.

Landroval looked over Legolas’ shoulder at the hobbit and frowned. “Dude, if I were you, I’d let the dwarf take the rap for that one. You may have found a hobbit, but I think yours is seriously broken. As soon as old Strider and Gandalf here get a good look at it, your ass is going to be in a sling. I’m just sayin’”

Gimli growled. “A troll fell on the hobbit! We did nothing at all to him. We found him that way!”

“Why didn’t we make up something like a troll or some other shit, Gwai?” Landroval whispered. “They’d have never known.”

“I was so loopy at the time, I didn’t think of it,” Gwaihir sighed.

“Me either,” Meneldor said. “I hope this is over soon cause I have a serious case of the munchies just now.”

“Me too,” Landroval said. “Wonder if they have any biscuits around here or maybe some nice, fat, dead rodents or a fox maybe. I could really chow down on some dead fox.”

“I think you should see to Pippin, now, Aragorn,” Legolas suggested, looking disgustedly at the eagles. “The Eagles are correct about one thing. The young hobbit is seriously injured.”

“So, where are Frodo and Sam then?” Gimli asked. “Are they going to be all right?”

The Eagles looked skyward and Landroval began to whistle. 

“We have some grievous news to impart,” Gandalf said sadly.

“No, no, no,” Gwaihir said, placing a wing over Gandalf’s mouth. “You don’t break it to ‘em like that, Wiz. That’s just asking for trouble. What you do is you say it like this.” He turned to face Gimli and Legolas. “Guys, I have some good news, and I have some bad news. The good news is, the Dark Lord is dead and the little hobbit dudes managed to destroy the Ring so everyone is free again!” He looked at Gandalf. “You wanna play that bit up extra big with lots of excitement in your voice. Then you hurry through the other part while they are all celebrating’ the good news. Less chance of anyone getting’ pissed that way.” Gwaihir cleared his throat and turned back to Gimli and Legolas and said, “The bad news is, we sort of accidentally dropped our hobbits in the lava.”

“It wasn’t our fault. It was all the poppy plants we had,” Landroval broke in. “We were as high as aeries.”

“Higher,” Meneldor said trying to be helpful.

“Our hobbit looks pretty good now,” Gimli said smiling at Legolas. “He’s a bit smashed up, but at least we didn’t drop him!”

GW 03-09-2012


	5. Be Careful What You Wish For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas has been through a very difficult time. Thankfully, it is nearly at an end, or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the B2MEM Bingo Card Challenge in 2012. The prompt was: N-41 Crackfic Bingo Card, Everything is better in Space
> 
> This is rated G so no worries other than the fact that this is very AU and dreadfully silly.

The War of the Ring had not gone well and they had barely enough time to send a few ships into space in order to save the race of men, elves, dwarves and hobbits. Ten small ships had left Middle earth nearly eighty years ago. Legolas had the task of piloting the first one. 

It was hoped that things would be better for them in space. They would begin again on some new world that Gandalf and Lord Elrond had chosen from studying the stars. Everything would be better in Space. That was the thinking on it before they left. So far, Legolas had not found that to be true. Space was not better, it was just lonely and far too quiet.

Legolas had been alone for years. He felt the ache of it every day, although he never dreamed this would happen when he volunteered to pilot the ship. He had been the logical choice, being immortal and all. It was possible for him to live through the long space journey where as the others, all being mortal, would not live to see the end of the journey unless they remained in a deep sleep with all of their bodily functions slowed down until the last portion of the flight. He had not believed he would be lonely, but he was. Each day he wished more and more that he had someone with which he could share the events of the long journey. He wanted to hear the sound of another voice answering his.

Gandalf had been going to come and keep him company on the long journey but as things often happened with the wizard, Gandalf had not turned up in time. Legolas heard only that he had been *delayed* but not what had delayed him. So, the task of piloting the ship fell to Legolas alone.

Legolas hoped that Gandalf had been in time to leave on the last ship with Arwen and Lord Elrond but he could not be certain. Nothing about this was certain.

Years passed without the sound of another voice. He grew hungry for conversation. There were days when he felt he might go mad if he had to exist alone for a moment longer. Finally, the time came for him to wake the others from their sleep. It was a slow process but at least, in beginning it, Legolas knew that he would not be alone much longer. The very task of waking his friends, lightened Legolas’ mood.

“Are we there yet?” Pippin asked, as soon as he was able to speak. Then before Legolas could respond, the hobbit went on. “What time is it? How many meals do you suppose I’ve missed? My, but I’m hungry! I hope there are lots of good things to eat in the ships’ pantries. Do ships like this have pantries? Who is steering this ship while you are down here waking everyone? Is Merry awake yet or was I first? What did you do while we were all asleep? I imagine it was boring. Was it boring, Legolas?”

Having not heard any voice save his own for nearly eighty years, Legolas found himself having trouble keeping up with Pippin’s questions. He felt slightly over-whelmed by the hobbit. He was just getting his bearings and preparing to respond, when Sam started talking too.

“Hullo, Mr. Legolas,” Sam smiled. “I can’t say when I’ve felt this rested, then I guess I never have felt this rested before have I? My old Gaffer wouldn’t believe it all if I tried to explain this to him, but then I guess he’s long dead by now, isn’t he?” Sam frowned, his eyes filling with tears. “I guess everyone I know is gone, aren’t they?”

“I’m still here and Legolas is still here and of course, Merry and Frodo are and Gimli. Is Gimli awake yet, Legolas? If he isn’t then he will be soon. Oh! I nearly forgot Strider! Strider will be awake. He is, isn’t he, Legolas?” Pippin said barely stopping to breathe.

“Well, it’s about time you woke us, Laddy,” Gimli said. “I could use a beer or some dwarfish ale.”

“I’m hungry,” Merry said sitting up. “I haven’t eaten in years! I really haven’t eaten in years and years and years! I don’t know if I can last until something is cooked. Do we have any biscuits? I have to have something now, or sooner if that’s possible.”

“As soon as I am fully awake, I’m going to need something to write on,” Frodo said joining his voice with the others. “I believe that I had some exceptional dreams during the past eighty years and I will need a quiet place to write them all down in detail,” Frodo said.

“Frodo, everyone we knew is dead,” Sam moaned. “There’s no one to read it. Why bother?”

“Sam, what you need is something to eat,” Merry said encouragingly. “I suspect that Legolas has fixed a fine meal to welcome us all back and once we’ve all eaten, everything will seem better.”

“Well,” Legolas began but he was interrupted by Pippin again.

“I could eat an entire pork roast or a whole stack of apple pies or just a bushel of apples. Do we have apples, Legolas? I hope we do because I think while Frodo was having all of his important dreams, I was dreaming about eating apples so I hope we have some. We do, don’t we?”

“My old Gaffer loved apples,” Sam sniffed sorrowfully.

“I had a dream about your Father, Sam,” Frodo offered.

“Tell us about it over dinner,” Merry suggested.

“And a pint of ale,” Gimli announced rubbing his hands together.

“I think we need to go over our plans carefully before we do anything further. The good of all involved should be our primary concern. I suspect that Legolas has kept detailed records of the journey thus far and will be able to recount all of the important events,” Aragorn said. “In that way we will be able to plot our course and make proper decisions. We are the first ship in our group and we must lead the way for the others that will follow.”

“You all can take care of that while I write down my dreams,” Frodo said. “I want to do that before I forget them. They are clear in my mind now, but they will fade if I am not quick. I’m going to make a book of them and call I’ll call it, ‘Asleep and Awake Again, A Hobbit’s Journey into Space. I think that will do nicely as a title. Legolas, do you have paper and quill for me?”

“He’s busy getting me something to eat, Frodo,” Merry objected.

“I thought he was getting us all something to eat and some ale to wash it down with,” Gimli said.

“Don’t trouble Legolas,” Aragorn said. “He has to organize his report on the journey first.”

“I don’t think he’s doing anything at all just now, Strider,” Pippin frowned. “He’s just standing there doing nothing. What’s wrong with him? He looks like he’s turned to stone. You haven’t, have you, Legolas? Do you think he has, Merry? Strider, I think Legolas might be ill.”

“I dreamed about something like this,” Frodo sighed as they all looked worriedly at the Elf.

While he stood there, watching the others wake up and listening to their annoying voices, Legolas decided that he shouldn’t have revived them all at once. Perhaps a year or two apart would have been better. Perhaps he had undervalued his time alone. There was a lot to be said for peace and quiet. Maybe he’d wait until they were all distracted and put them under again. Then, he would wait until they were a bit closer to their new home and revive them again, only much slower. The next time, maybe he wouldn’t revived Pippin at all. 

 

GW

03-08-2012


	6. For the Good of Our People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil gives Legolas a task to perform. He doesn't care how it is done, only that it be done quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the I-22 Crack Fic Bingo Card, 2012, Unlikely pairings.
> 
> This is rated PG-13 and is very much AU.

“I’m serious, Legolas. Something must be done for the good of our people,” Thranduil sighed. “They are everywhere and we must rid ourselves of them as quickly as possible. They are disrupting the peace even more so than the spiders. They do not belong within the borders of Mirkwood.”

“What would you have me do, Father?” Legolas asked. “You should know well enough that I do not encourage them, nor do I invite them.”

“I realize that, my son. All the same, they are here and I can think of little else to do, save releasing the spiders upon them. They come seeking an audience with you and until you allow them what they wish, I fear we shall not be rid of them. It pains me to place such a burden upon you, but unless you should wish to sail now, I can think of no other solution,” Thranduil said.

“I do not wish to sail. I shall remain in Middle earth until my dear friend, Gimli departs and I am pleased to say that his health is excellent at present,” Legolas smiled.

Thranduil frowned. Of late his son had been the cause of many queer events in Mirkwood. This dwarf, Gimli, being a welcome guest in their forest, was but one of them. The other matter was far more troubling. “Dwarves, hobbits, and now these,” he paused and waved a hand as if to dismiss those he wished gone. “I have no issue with the dwarf. I have accepted his presence in our midst, but the two of you cannot continue to hide here in the forest any longer. Those which you seek to avoid must be dealt with or soon they will find their way into our halls and I cannot sanction that!”

“They are most persistent,” Legolas nodded. “I shall attend to this situation at once. It would seem I have little alternative save to face them and be done with it. Gimli and I have places we much see and commitments to honour. You are correct that I cannot remain hidden here.”

“Then I can expect this to be over within the next few days?” Thranduil asked. “If not, the spiders are my only recourse.”

“Yes, Father,” Legolas said. “You may expect to have the forest restored to its normal state within a few days.” 

He then took his leave and made his way directly to the location where the unwanted visitors were waiting. The idea was not so repulsive as one might suspect. It was unusual, but in some instances, he suspected that it might be very pleasant. More than a few of them were quite attractive and some, while not so pleasing to the eye, were doubtless very skilled. He must hurry though. Two days was just enough time if he kept at it and did not rest. When he arrived, Gimli was waiting, holding the visitors at bay. Really, Gimli‘s part in all of this would be the most difficult. The dwarf would have all of the effort and none of the rewards.

***********

“My Lord?”

“Yes?” Thranduil looked up from his reading and found before him one of the younger elves. He was not more than eight-hundred years of age and just beginning his service to the wood. He was, if Thranduil recalled correctly, in charge of patrolling the southern borderland of Mirkwood. Thranduil did not at this time recall the young ones’ name but he knew his face. “What is it?”

“There is a great disturbance near the area where the unwanted visitors have been camped,” the young elf reported.

“What manner of disturbance?”

“Wailing and moaning and screaming and all types of sounds. There has been no rest from it since it began,” he said. “Even the spiders hear it and move away. It sounds rather primitive and slightly depraved.”

“Ignore it,” Thranduil said. “It will be over in another day or so. Legolas is attempting to rid us of our unwanted visitors. I did not request a report as to how he might be doing that. I only requested that he get it done as quick as may be. Whatever his method I shall not question it nor shall anyone else.”

“Yes, my Lord.” The lad bowed and left quickly.

**********

“Do you need anything more to eat or drink, laddy?” Gimli asked. He looked very concerned for his dear friend. It was true that Elves were immortal but they could die if injured. None of this could be good for Legolas. There were so many of them! He did admire the lad’s stamina though.

“I will be fine, Gimli,” Legolas sighed. “That last one was, shall we say, enthusiastic?”

“From the sound of it all, I’d say she was deadly,” Gimli said. “Those scratches on your arms look painful.”

“They are now, but during the, ah, event, the experience was quite pleasing, even arousing,” Legolas said fondly. “I would have *that* one return to the end of the line if time allowed.” He smiled.

Gimli sighed and shook his head. “We'll have none of that, Laddy. We must be done with the lot of them as soon as possible, and you’ve still at least a hundred or more to go as it is. They’ll be no time for repeat adventures.”

“Very well,” Legolas said, looking disappointed. “Send the next one to me. I am ready. I must remain strong for the good of our people.”

Gimli shook his head in wonder. There were songs of the grace of the elves and songs and tales of their love for nature, but their were no songs that Gimli knew which told of their uncommon stamina during sex. Perhaps he would write such a song once this was over.

He walked from the tent and looked at the next lass in the long line. “Your name?” he asked.

She giggled. He hated the ones that giggled. “Marcie,” she chirped.

“He’ll see you now, Margie,” Gimli said.

“It’s Marcie, not Margie,” she corrected.

“Aye, well, Marcie, it is your turn now.”

“Do you suppose he’ll sign this photo I have?” she asked holding up a glossy image of Legolas shooting an arrow from his bow.

“If that’s want you want, then I’m sure he’ll sign it,” Gimli said.

“And this one for my friend who couldn’t come?” Marcie asked. She displayed another photo, this one of Legolas in profile, leaning against the trunk of a tree.

“And that as well, Lassie,” Gimli sighed. “Just go on in and see him.”

As she rushed past the weary dwarf, the next young woman in line said, “Excuse me?”

“You’ll have to wait your turn,” Gimli sighed. “He’s seeing his fans one at a time.”

“What if my girlfriends and I want to go in as a group?” she said.

The dwarf’s eyes widened. “How many of you?”

“Just three,” she said. “We do everything together and we all love him equally so we thought we could share him, stay in with him three times longer.”

Gimli blushed. “I’ll have to ask him when he's finished with-”

“Oh God! Oh God!” Screams from the tent interrupted Gimli and he waited until he could be heard.

“I’ll ask,” Gimli said quickly. “If he’s willing, then there’ll be no problem at all.” He walked away from the them and moved closer to the tent. Three at once! Could Legolas really manage such a feat after a full day of sexual congress with all of these human females?

The fans of the race of Dwarves were not so numerous nor so quick to rush into sexual acts and Gimli had to admit that he was slightly envious of his friend’s luck. On the other hand, he was also relieved. He doubted that he could manage to keep his own flag hoisted long enough to service this many eager lasses. It was a good thing the elves were immortal because this much sex would kill a lesser being.

GW 03-03-2012


End file.
